


a lovable man

by sweetheartdean



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: (or at least mediocre one), Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Bad Sex Is Had, Chad and Sadie are here, Chipper!Jensen, Cynic!Jared, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 07:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetheartdean/pseuds/sweetheartdean
Summary: Jay ain't ever buying the heartache Jensen Ackles is selling.





	a lovable man

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the j2-jukebox challenge, for the song prompt Vehicle by The Ides of March by theatregirl7299.
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful quickreaver for betaing! <3

Jensen Ackles went to Harvard. Or Stanford. Or Yale. Jared wouldn’t know, but he’s damn sure Jensen has some fancy paper framed on the wall of his office downtown, the office that’s many floors above Jared’s head at all times. He works right next to the building where Jensen does, except he’s crawling in the mud, and Jensen’s up in the sky, surrounded by glass and steel.

Jensen Ackles is ranked twelfth in ‘ _Most Eligible Bachelors — Will You Be The Lucky Lady?_ ’ article on Forbes. Jared doesn’t google clients, but he can’t help stumbling onto Jensen’s name every once in a while. 

Jensen Ackles had been doing the spread eagle with Jared just ten minutes ago, and now, sweaty and blissed-out, he’s ranting away. Fucking pillow talk. Usually, Jared hates it, but the room’s warm and there’s chocolate candy on the nightstand. So he’s stuffing his mouth like no tomorrow, listening to Jensen drone on and on. 

“I can’t believe that fucker trying to double-cross us. This deal was secured months ago. Cemented in writing, too. But now he’s got a team of lawyers sniffing around the contract, trying to…”

“Find a loophole, yeah. You’ve told me already,” Jared says and promptly shuts his no-good mouth. 

He's lucked out here and he can’t blow this. Clients like Jensen don’t fall into Jared’s lap every day. No matter if they’re loaded or not, Jared’s all too familiar with what interrupting men who think they have a shred of power over him does. 

And Jensen actually has some power, unlike most of those jumped-up sons of bitches. All the power right here, in these ten freckled fingers and a Parker pen lying on the floor of the hotel room. 

It’s raining outside. It’s always wet in Seattle, rain turning to mist and mist back to rain. But the room is warm and Jared doesn’t want to get kicked out for insubordination. Feels like his very bones ache in the cold of his own place.

Jared pops his chocolate-stained ring finger into his mouth with a wet noise to remind Jensen he’s a good investment. And he is. 

It’s his job to know what people want, and he’s damn good at it.

One out of five men admits that he wants to be dominated, upfront. One more weakly says he ain’t like that until Jared’s hands works him into putty. Other two want to use him as a quiet or eager fucktoy. The last one is a special kind of a freak that Jared hates working with. All of them scared of something or other: their lives, loneliness, judgement, take your pick. Jared’s a witch doctor, applies a warm compress to where it hurts. 

Predictable and so, so boring. Nothing changes, same desperate glassy eyes, same grabby hands, same curling toes with dirt under the nails, same hungry mouths that tell him to open wide, same sloppy tongue begging him to go harder. He always does as he’s told. 

Jared’s good at his job.

But holding a conversation about the legal side of being a CEO isn’t a part of Jared’s job. If Jensen wanted someone who would drink wine with him after a long work day and hold a high-brow conversation, he should’ve hired a fancy escort. A lady paying her way through Ivy League, who knows how to talk Wall Street and which fork is the salad one. Not street-born, street-raised Jared who barely has a last name to speak of. 

“Guess I did,” Jensen says, and he doesn’t sound pissed, score. Jared licks his chocolate-covered lip, really gets into the corner of his mouth to scoop the stickiest bits out. “It’s just been on my mind all the time lately. What do you think I should do, baby?”

He says the pet name so warmly, like talking to a puppy or a baby bunny rabbit, and he’s stroking the short hairs along the nape of Jared’s neck, too. Jesus, talk about someone who needs the kind, gentle touch that just isn’t in Jared’s arsenal.

“Uh, I dunno, Jensen.” Jared shrugs, rubbing his nose. This is so above his paygrade. “Stab him in the back before he can stab you. Really work ‘im over. That’ll show people not to fuck with you. Sends a message.” 

Jensen looks like he’s honest to god considering Jared’s words. Taking management tips from a dollar store whore, well, isn’t he the most adorable CEO Jared’s ever seen. Not that he’s seen a lot, but he’s willing to bet that Jensen would still take the title. 

“Forget the bastard. I know what’s gonna make you feel all better.” Jared rolls over onto his side and pats Jensen’s meaty thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Rev your motor, how ‘bout that? Jensen’s got a refractory period to put a teenager to shame. Some people are just born lucky. Jared can almost taste the silver on his tongue, left over from the spoon he popped outta the womb with, some day long before Jared was even a plan.

Scratch that, Jared wasn’t ever a plan. He gatecrashed this party named life without an invite, unwelcome and all the hungrier to stick around for it. Stubborn like a mule, his nana used to say.

Jared forces his thoughts away from these topics. Would suck if he couldn’t get it up because he thought of his gran too hard.

“Wider.” He forces Jensen’s right leg open. Jensen mirrors the movement with left.

Jensen Ackles has got enough green to afford anyone he wants, even people who aren’t evidently for sale, but he chooses to buy Jared’s dime time. At first Jared was worried he was some kinda sadist or a sicko or a freak. That he’s into watching guys get wrecked by dogs, or he’s a modern version of Jack the Ripper. Turned out he’s into vanilla stuff. Spreads his legs like butter on toast. Sometimes pushes Jared around a little, but any boyfriend would be down for that.

Why’s he gotta buy passion off Jared’s scraped-up hands, Jared will never know. 

“Wi-der.” Jared nudges his legs even farther apart. “Want my dick again? Or my mouth?” Jensen opens his mouth to reply but Jared’s fingers beat him to the punch, pressing across his lips in a shushing motion. “Ah-ah. Too slow. I happen to think you want my dick, after all.” 

They all want someone to tell them what to do, these high-powered types. It’s hilarious, really. Shows that it’s not just Jared who’s stumbling through life without a fucking clue. 

Well, at least he knows what he’s doing during. He drags his hand down Jensen’s chest, gently scratching at his pec.

“Fuck, Jay, please,” Jensen says, a good boy begging for a treat. Harmless and clawless now when Jared’s got him on his back. Jared strokes his stomach. The guy’s got that slightly soft middle from his sedentary lifestyle. It’s nice, though. Kinda hot in some weird way. Maybe something primal tells Jared a man like that could provide for him. Maybe even keep him safe.

His rational brain’s well-aware no one would ever do that. 

“Yeah, you want it bad,” Jared mutters, David Copperfield’ing a condom out of thin air. They teach you that the first class at hooker school, he’d said to Jensen the first time they met. He can do the whole pulling it from behind someone’s ear thing, too. Neat lil’ tricks, a sleight of hand to make him seem so much cuter if that’s what the client wanted to see. 

A hooker’s a good salesperson, first and foremost. 

Jensen’s just as amused by his magic as he was that first time, eyes shining like he’s the young one here.

Jared rolls the condom on, and slides right deep in, no pussyfooting around. Jensen’s still all hot and slippery from the liberal amount of lube Jared used for round one. He slams in so hard his hair flops into his field of view, and he swears under his breath, pushing it back. “Taking me so good.” 

He might be tight and way better groomed than most people Jared fucks who would probably faint at the sheer idea of taking a razor to their hairy ass. But Jensen’s without a creative bone in his body when it comes to fucking, always just rolls right over. And the thing is, Jared likes Jensen alright. He’s sweet if kinda oblivious sometimes, and way more gracious than most people who buy horizontal tango services. But it’s Jared’s job to be detached, so he works hard at never getting too deep into the heat of passion. It’s not like most guys do much for his benefit to make him lose his head, Mr. Ackles over there included.

Jensen moans and gasps when Jared picks up the pace, fucking him right into the mattress. Jensen digs his nails into the fancy sheets and the gentle fabric pulls. Ouch. 

A drop of sweat rolls off Jared’s forehead just as he thrusts in, and blooms on Jensen’s shoulder. The headboard slams into the wall like a battering ram. At least there’s no chance the frame would give way like it did once in the local pay-per-hour motel. That stupid thing was made out of goddamn cardboard, had to be. 

Jensen stares up at him through his Maybelline eyelashes, dazed and blissed-out. Jared twists his nipple so he doesn’t get too relaxed over there. Rubs his thumb over it until Jensen arches his back for more.

“You’re my lil’ bitch right now, aren’t you?” Jared keeps the onslaught of boredom out of his voice, lowers it to a growl. Jensen nods to the tune of Jared’s thrusts. “I wanna hear you say it. With your mouth.” Jared grabs him by the face, tipping his head back to meet his eyes. His fingers squish hard enough for him to feel Jensen’s jawbone.

Jensen’s silent. It’s their little game, taming the wild stallion, and Jared fucks in again— just to end up crashing down into the mattress as Jensen flips them around, their legs tangling together comically for a hot second. 

“Kitty’s got claws,” Jared says, teasing, as he pushes up on his elbows to look Jensen over with a smug grin. “And my dick in his ass.”

“Damn right,” Jensen pants out, snapping his hips up and down like a deranged cowboy, chasing his orgasm. Jared strokes his side gently, licking his lips at the wet sex noises. 

“Yeah. There’s a good boy. Look atcha go,” he murmurs and stares up at the ceiling. Once Jensen pays up, Jared’s gotta pay his half of the rent and get some decent groceries. Even though Chad promised to pick something up, Jared’s willing to bet his bottom dollar their pantry is just gonna end up stuffed with snacks and ramen. The only reason Chad hasn’t gotten gastritis yet is because Jared makes sure to buy fruit and chase Chad down with apples. Look, he likes gummy bears as much as the next guy, but getting sick is a luxury they can’t afford.

He grabs at Jensen’s hip, yanking him down. Jensen throws his head back.

Jared thinks about whether they’re running out of dish soap as he spits out a string of filthy words, spurring Jensen on. 

-

He walks Sadie when he gets home. Once she’s done doing her thing, he sinks on the bench in front of their apartment building. It’s damp, but not so wet it would get uncomfortable through his jeans. ‘Sides, Jared’s sat on way worse.

The rain stops, like someone above turned off the leaky faucet.

Sadie noses at his leg, and Jared pets her, a smile forcing its way onto his face. 

How’s that saying go? The more I learn about people, the more I like my dog?

Sounds about right.

Tomorrow evening he’s got a meeting with his worst client. Jared’s stomach twists at the mere thought of having to share a bed with that sleaze again. He always makes sure to tell Jared how gross and disgusting his job makes him, and leaves him feeling like utter shit, body and mind. 

But whatever. A guy’s gotta eat. And so does his dog. Jared strokes Sadie’s silky fur, and she pushes up, front legs in his lap and licks his face all over until Jared’s laughing. 

“Good girl,” he mutters under his breath, fingers in her fur. “My good girl.” 

-

Jensen always texts him the room number. Nothing else in the text, just the abbreviated name of the hotel and the room number.

Jared winces when Jensen hoists him up as soon as he crosses the threshold of the hotel room. He’s still kind of tender from the night before. Jensen probably takes it as a grimace of pleasure, ‘cause he sure as hell doesn’t slow down. 

Jared kisses back as Jensen spins them around and then the world tilts. Jared crashes onto the floor, his whole body echoing with pain. Jensen collapsing on top of him doesn’t help. He groans, stirring slowly, trying to pull his limbs from under Jensen.

Jensen’s hovering over him, eyebrows knitted together and mouth worried.

“Are you okay?” he says, sounding all kinds of apologetic. He looks Jared over, concerned eyes and tender hands working in tandem, and even makes sure to check the back of his head for bumps. 

“Yeah, uh—I’m fine.” Jared sits up, disentangling his own limbs from Jensen’s. Jensen hisses when Jared shifts and sits up, pulling his left leg close. The light gray fabric of the suit pants stretched over Jensen’s knee is slowly growing red. 

Jensen swears loudly.

Jared swears through his teeth.

-

“It’s just a sprain and some scratches. Doesn’t look too bad,” Jared says, lifting the ice pack away from Jensen’s knee to take a peek. Then again, he probably has a much higher tolerance for fucked-up bodies than Jensen does. His colleagues get smacked around by clients a lot, and Jared’s got the good touch or whatever, so his side business is fixing people up for a small fee. “I’ll bandage it up later.”

“Well, it doesn’t look _good_ , either,” Jensen mutters, arms crossed over on his chest. “Maybe I should see a doctor.”

“It’s really not a big deal. Quit being a fuckin’ baby,” Jared says, a little annoyed. “You never played football in school or anything? No sports? You just walk stuff like this off!”

“I played chess. And golf. Still do.” Jensen snorts. “Not really that traumatic.”

Of course he plays golf. “I dunno, Jensen. If you use your club on the opponent like god intended it, it’s plenty traumatic.”

Jensen actually laughs at this bad joke. Really bad joke. Wow. The guy’s got no joke standards. That’s adorable. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I golf with my business partners.” He shifts on the bed and Jared has to keep the ice pack from slipping off his knee. He stares Jensen down until the guy stops wiggling about. 

“Well, I played baseball in middle school. It was fun. I got to take out my murderous urges. There’s something about holding a bat that makes you feel a special kind of invincible.”

“Heh. And in high school?” 

“Never went.” Jared shrugs. Had he gone, he only would’ve had graduated this past year, and a man’s gotta feed himself somehow. You don’t need a diploma to sell sex. Jensen looks downright shocked like he’s about to say something else stupid. Don’t hurt yourself clutching your pearls, buddy.

“Time for your bandage, man.”

He bandages Jensen up all careful-like, smoothing his hand over it like he’s trying to calm down a skittish kitten. 

“Shit, you did get hurt.”

Jared looks down at his wrists where bruises bloom. Ugly things, marking him up and making him remember.

“No, that… that wasn’t right now.” Jared tries to yank his sleeve back on top of it, but Jensen grabs his hand before he can cover it back up. “Jensen, I’m fine.”

“Who did this to you?”

“Someone who paid me extra for the opportunity.” God, it’s like Jensen’s fucking oblivious to what Jared’s job entails. Or maybe he just can’t handle it up close. It’s way easier to accept the shit that happens to abstract people. Not real ones of flesh and blood who get you off oh so nice. 

The pitying softness that crinkles up in the corners of Jensen’s eyes makes Jared downright nauseous. He gets a rubber band out of his jeans’ back pocket and pulls his hair up in a ponytail. Jensen pipes down, watching Jared all hungry-like. 

Now that’s something he knows how to deal with. Hunger is so familiar. 

“Anyhoo. Since you’re an injured warrior of the sex front and everything, I’m gonna blow you. Compensation for your... heroics.”

If Jensen had any protests on his tongue at all, they die down the moment Jared takes him in between his lips.

Jensen convinces him to stay overnight. Jared’s got a bad feeling about it, but it’s raining outside. God, he fucking hates rain, but Seattle’s the only home he knows. And even though it never treated him kindly, Jared just can’t get the courage to run. There’s next to nothing tethering him to Seattle, but he might as well has been pierced by the Space Needle like a butterfly in a glass case.

‘Cause he’s too scared to break out of what he knows, same like everyone else.

He texts Chad: checks in and asks him to feed Sadie.

Jensen holds him all too tenderly even in his sleep. Jensen’s lovesick in the head.

Jared stares up at the ceiling, and sleep just won’t come. 

Really, Jensen’s not that good of a lay. He keeps talking about his work all the time and is absolutely fucking clueless about how things are outside of his bubble of rich fucks. He’s arrogant, got a pissy resting bitch face, and whines all the time. And he fucking sprained his knee trying to hop a dick, who even does that? So lame.

Jared pins the tally of everything that pisses him off about Jensen Ackles to the forefront of his mind. ‘Cause he’s really gotta be the reasonable one here. Jensen won’t. 

Jensen makes a pained noise in his sleep as he rolls around, jostling his swelled-up knee. Yeah. What a total wuss. 

Jared runs his hand through Jensen’s short hair, over and over again. It tickles his palm. 

Jared’s heart is strangely full, pumped with something he doesn’t know how to put a name to. 

-

“Asswipe. We agreed, no blazing in the living room!” Jared yanks the joint out of Chad’s hand. “It’s six in the fucking morning. I just wanna sleep, not breathe in your fuckin’ pot.” He takes a hit before pointedly putting it out in the red ashtray reading “Over Easy Diner” in golden engraved letters. 

“Did we really agree on that?” Chad makes the most annoying innocent face.

“Ooooh, that’s a bad look on you. Got these eyes like you have a dead body in your trunk and you just got pulled over.” Jared plops down on the couch, stretching his legs. 

“How was work, honey?” Chad mockingly bats his eyelashes and opens a beer on the corner of the coffee table. Jared rummages in his pocket and pulls out his pocket knife to open his own.

“Fine.”

“You stayed the night.”

“I did. Hey, he pays by the hour, and if I can get paid for napping, I’m gonna take it.” 

“Imagine that. Paying someone to sleep in your bed. Fucking sad.” Chad hums and takes a swig. “He ugly?”

“Huh? No, he’s actually pretty hot. I guess.” In an objective way of speaking, he didn’t hit every branch on the ugly tree. 

“And loaded. What’s he want with you?”

“Excuse me?” Jared puts on a fake affronted expression, turning around to face Chad. “I happen to be hot too. I’m also hilarious and great in bed. That’s what my resume says, at least.”

“Just sayin’. If he’s so damn perfect, why can’t he get laid without paying for it?”

“Oh, believe me, he’s got plenty issues.” 

“Like?” 

“He’s really bad at sex.” Jared shrugs. “And he loves to hear himself talk, god.”

“You think everyone’s bad at sex, man.” Chad takes a sip.

“If you had subpar sex as much as I do, you would agree.”

“Uh, no, thanks. I don’t want getting laid to be ruined for me. It’s only one of life’s greatest fucking pleasures.” Chad snorts. “You google your mystery dude? Maybe he’s married or something.”

“No.” Jared shakes his head. 

“Why not?”

“It’s a rule of mine. I don’t google clients.” 

“Weird rule,” Chad comments off-handedly.

“I don’t wanna see ‘em lead normal lives.” Jared finally looks over at Chad. 

Chad shrugs. He doesn’t get it. No one does, and Jared wonders why he even bothers trying to explain these things.

“They’re cool with picking up a barely legal guy and doing all kinds of sick shit with him. And then they go home to their wives and kiss them on the mouth with the same mouth they kissed me. Ruffle their kid’s hair with the same hand they grabbed me with.” 

Chad sighs.

“I don’t have that much faith in humanity left to take a jackhammer to it.”

Chad opens another beer for him with a “that’s rough, bro”, and that’s how Jared knows he cares. 

-

“I have an offer for you,” Jensen says. He hasn’t jumped Jared’s bones the moment they entered the room and instead insisted they sit at the table, which was already kinda suspicious. The mention of an offer makes Jared bristle up even more.

“That I can’t refuse?” Jared asks, tense, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You can, but I don’t think you’ll want to.” Jensen pushes a folder over to Jared across the table. “I want you to work for me. Only for me.”

“Huh?” Jared replies. Ever so eloquent. 

“Work for me and no one else. No more douchebag clients. You can come live with me, too.” Jensen seems to take his silence as agreement and goes on. “All you gotta do is sign this contract and the NDA.”

“NDA?” Jared huffs, quickly skimming over the pages of contract. Small letters atop small letters. Can’t go looking for fine print when everything is in fine print. Fucking legalese. “Is that… some kind of a legal no-homo?”

Jensen’s quiet for a bit longer than the question calls for. “It’s just to assure this matter will be, uh… discrete.” 

“Discrete.” Jared tastes the word on his tongue. It tastes like crap. He rolls his eyes so hard his vision blacks in the corners. “You’re a closet case. God, that’s what it is.”

“Come again?” Jensen raises his eyebrow. 

“No, see, I’ve been thinking, what the hell a guy like you would want with someone like me. But now I know. This is the perfect crime, isn’t it? As long as no one sees us together—which you have made sure of—no one would believe me.” Jensen’s face falls, but Jared keeps trucking on. “High-end escorts and boyfriends can be bought and flipped. But me… no one ever looks at me twice except for people looking to buy. And the rest of my clientele has nothing to do with you.”

Jared shakes his head, closing his eyes.

“NDA.” Jared scoffs. “I’m not a snitch, Jensen. So I’m kinda offended by your insinuations over here.”

“I never said you were—look, this is just a formality.” 

“You just want me to drop all my other regulars—scratch that, drop all my life to come live with you. What happens when you get bored of me?”

“I won’t get bored of you.”

“Humor me, Jensen. Say you get bored of me and you toss me out. I’ll be homeless and jobless. I just want our old arrangement to go on.”

“Screw the old arrangement.” Aw, fuck. “All that’s not gonna happen. C’mon, Jay—” Jensen reaches across the table and grabs Jared’s wrist. Jared tenses and tries to yank it out, but Jensen’s got him tethered well. “I’ll pay you double your hourly rate.”

Jared considers it, ‘cause he’s nothing if not a savvy businessman. A self-made man, even. Jensen the CEO heir ain’t got nothing on him. He’s never had to hustle for his life like Jared has, and that gives you some next-fucking-level skills.

“I can’t put all my eggs in one basket.”

“Stay with me,” Jensen breathes, and his grasp on Jared’s wrist tightens until it hurts. “Tell me what it’ll take.”

“Why do you want me to stay so bad?”

“We, uh, we have great sex?” Jensen smiles in a way that’s probably supposed to be disarming. Jared keeps his weapons all too close for that. 

“O-Okay.” He sighs. “Look, man, you got nothing to be scared of. Can’t believe I’m giving you the it’s okay to be gay speech, but you really could find someone else to nail you. Bet there are tons of dudes out there who’d do your gay ass for free. Hold you down and make you take it, just the way you like it.”

Jensen grows delightfully pink. Jared grins to himself. Nothing to lose.

“Why me?”

“Because…” Jensen stares at him, helpless, and strokes Jared’s palm. Jared’s stuffed full of dread. “Because I... l—”

“Don’t. Don’t fucking say it.” Jared scrambles to his feet, yanking his hand out. “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’m offering you to keep doing it.”

“Nah.” Jared snorts. “You wanna buy me whole. You’re hopin’ I’ll fall madly for you if we spend more time together. Or at least pretend. But I don’t do that.”

“How much? Just—how much will it take?” Jensen snaps, and Jared exhales, almost relieved. He’s been waiting for this to happen and it’s a sick thrill when the other shoe drops. Like popping an especially nasty zit. “Just name your price.” 

All good things in the world are for sale. Jared’s body most of all. Come get a slice. 

Jared’s love isn’t for sale. Or a good thing. 

“Man.” Jared shakes his head. “I said no. You ever hear that word before?”

He turns away, fully intending to go straight for the door. Well, so much for all that. So much for his highest-paying client. People always want more than they can have.

Jensen grabs him by the wrist again and forces him to turn around, pulling him close. Jared pushes at his chest, exasperated. Were it anyone else, Jared would’ve gotten scared. Not with Jensen, though. 

He’s just fucking disappointed, mostly by himself for hoping this would be different. Never even realized he had that hope until it got snuffed.

“I like you, an—”

“You _like_ me? You don’t know jack shit about me,” Jared snarls. “Do you even know how old I am, huh? You haven’t exactly carded me on my way in.”

Jensen’s face grows absolutely horrified and Jared basks in watching his face drain of color, even these freckles fading too. He uses how slack Jensen’s grip get and wrestles away, still staying close enough to get into Jensen’s face now that he’s got the upper hand. 

“Oh man, the look on your face... lucky for you, I’m legal.” Jared squeezes Jensen’s shoulder with a condescending smile. “But, for real. For a guy who’s that heartsick over my ass, you never asked a single question about me. You just like how I fuck you. And you know what? That’s fucking okay.” 

Jared takes a step back, shrugging.

“It’s a-okay to like being dicked, Jenny,” he says, because he is so getting fired from Jensen Ackles’ Top Personal Provider of Sexual Services position anyway. Might as well air all his frustrations. “You don’t have to lie that it’s love to make yourself feel better—”

“I don’t. Jay, you— jesus, you think you know everyone, don’t you? Just like that. You’re not a fucking mind reader.”

“No. But I know you’re in over your head, Jensen. I’m down here, you’re up there, and if you insist on fooling yourself that’s love, I can’t even fuck you.”

“Jay...”

“If you’re gonna fuck someone for free? Foreplay, champ. I guess you’re pretty enough for people to just let it slide, but, trust me, a little hanky-panky goes a long way.” 

It’s raining again and Jared didn’t bring an umbrella. He steps outside and shivers, rubs his bare arms in a futile attempt to warm himself up. Then heads home straight through the puddles.

Even Chad doesn’t say anything, just silently offers Jared a hit of his bong. Even fuckin’ Chad. Means Jared looks like someone died.

He’s just pissed he lost his most lucrative client, okay? It’s got nothing to do with Jensen himself. ‘Cause clients mean nothing. They’re all a bunch of piggie banks that Jared knows how to shake just right to get some cash out of them.

Jensen is a fucking idiot.

Jared hits his pillow once, twice, then drives his fist into the wall over and over until a neighbor yells out a string of obscenities that insults Jared’s parentage, intelligence and sexual prowess. He drops his bleeding hand into his lap and runs the stud in his tongue back and forth across his teeth.

-

Jensen passes him by on his way out of work and doesn’t look at him twice. Jared knows Jensen’s got bad eyesight and doesn’t wear glasses because he’s too stubborn. He also knows his short-sightedness doesn’t have to do anything with him ignoring Jared.

A few weeks Jared swaps places with a fellow working girl. This corner is lucrative, but Jared’s been there a while. Time to let someone else have a spin, too. 

This decision is totally altruistic.

Jared never made an altruistic decision in his entire life, but you have to start somewhere with being charitable.

-

“Hey, take it easy,” Jared pants as the man behind him pins his arm down at an awkward angle. His other hand’s splayed in front of Jared’s nose, and the dull shine of a wedding band hurts Jared’s eyes.

Jared has to hustle twice as hard these days. He kinda got used to the comfy living Jensen’s lavish payments got him. Fresh produce in the fridge, a decent skin moisturizer (hey, his face’s one of the moneymakers alongside with his ass), even bought a new non-stick pan for the kitchen. And now, all of a sudden, he’s gotta stretch the cash real thin.

Maybe he was too principled. Pride’s what got him doing a nosedive against the trunk of a car, cheek pressed into the cold metal. That, and the golden rule of hooking: don’t catch feelings for a john. You can clean up an infection, but feelings? Way messier.

Well, he’s in no position to catch feelings for the fat fuck that’s currently plowing him, that’s for sure. A sharp pain rushes through his arm and he hisses, twisting around to look back the best he can. 

“I said, easy! You break it, you buy it. You wanna get kinky with me, that’s a fuckin’ extra charge.”

He ends up pressed into the metal even harder for his trouble, gasping for air and trying not to scream as his arm gets crushed. Shit, if it breaks, he’d be fucked, he’d be so fucked: a huge hospital bill on top of being out of work, like a shit cherry on top of a shit sundae. People aren’t exactly looking for one-armed hookers. Unless they have some real specific fetishes, but Jared’s not exactly holding his breath.

So he reaches out with his free hand and digs his nails deep into the car’s glossy paint job, scraping at it the best he can. 

The ground meets him with its rough embrace. The man stomps at his hand—once, twice, then Jared finally rolls away across the wet pavement, and holds his limb close to his chest. Fuckfuckfuck, it hurts. 

“You little bitch.” A swift kick in the ribs gets him wheezing. He spits on the ground and it comes out red.

“Hey, you twisted my arm.” Jared snorts and pushes off the pavement. He hoists his jeans back up with his good hand, ready for a fight. “I told you to back the fuck off, asswipe.” 

“I’ll fuckin’ end you.” And he means it, too, advancing all menacing-like. Maybe Jared should be scared, but he’s so fucking past that. To be scared, you need to give half a shit about what happens to you next. 

Jared dips his hand into his pocket and wraps his fingers around his trusty switchblade. Pulls it out.

“This’s gonna work miles better than my nails. Maybe I’ll carve my name and number out. ‘For a good time, call Jay.’ Use your car as free advertising space,” he sneers. The man zips back up, clearly not cool with the tender bits of him being exposed around a crazy knife-wielding hooker. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Get lost!”

Jared licks his wounds better at home. 

Jensen would grab his hand if he saw and insist on cleaning the wound. It’s the bare minimum of being a decent person. It’s stupid how often Jared isn’t allowed even that bare minimum. A bruise here, a burn there, he’s spread on a cheap bedspread altar like a fucking sacrificial lamb and every man wants a bite. 

Jensen would fret right now, but Jared would get ticked off, ‘cause he’s tough shit. He doesn’t need anyone to mother-hen him and kiss his bruises better and pat his back. He’s his own man. 

He cleans his fingers and bandages them all by himself. He’s all blood and guts, all the damn time. Even if he’s curled up on the pavement, he has to get right back up and act like the new dick he tastes is the best thing since sliced bread.

It’s good to be all alone. You don’t worry about anyone and no one worries about you and there’s no chance to be let down.

Jensen’s an entitled bastard.

It’s good to be all alone.

Jensen is so annoying when he’s touchy-feely.

Sadie jumps on Jared’s bed. She’s not allowed on it but Jared doesn’t say a thing.

Jensen is...

-

His knock-off Converse shoes are soaked through, sticking to his skin. So are his skinny jeans and his shirt and his hair. But money’s tight and it’s not raining so heavily that people wouldn’t be looking right now. He’s just been standing here a while.

Raindrops drip down his legs. He hides under an awning, but the window makes the rain slant and crash into him like a cold sea wave. 

He closes his eyes and misses footfalls behind the sound of rain and blood thumping in his ears. A black flower of an umbrella blooms above his head and Jared looks up and to the left. Trails his eyes over a hand, a hoodie-sleeve-covered arm, shoulder and comes to a screeching halt on familiar lips. Looking up, past the lips, feels like a fucking challenge, but Jared’s nothing but strong-willed.

A grown man has no business looking so much like a lost kid.

“What is this, an eighties movie?” Jared says, voice rough and scratchy like he hasn’t used it in years and now the needle catches on the vinyl. “Couldn’t find a boombox?”

“No. Just needed to tell you something. Uh... I’m leaving town.”

“Huh,” Jared says because that’s what you say when you’re being killed without a knife or an insistent circle of fingers around your neck. “Where are you going?” 

“LA.” Jensen’s freckles are gonna multiply under the California sun. Through mitosis. Is it mitosis? Jared used to be a straight-A student in grade eight, but it’s been a million dicks ago. 

“Heard the weather is good there,” Jared says politely. Jensen hands him the umbrella. It’s so strange to see Jensen in a hoodie. In a well-tailored suit, sure, wearing nothing but a pair of handcuffs, damn right, but a hoodie? And jeans? Fuckin’ freaky. 

If Jared squints just enough, he can see a world where they could be equals.

“It is, yeah.”

“Not a lot of rain.” Jared props the umbrella against his shoulder. “How’d you find me?”

“Asked around.”

“Asked… around.” Jared raises his eyebrow. “Asked around? For real?”

“Yeah. I asked the girl working at your usual spot if she knew where Jay was.” 

“And you didn’t make her sign anything? I’m shocked.” Jared’s got so much eating at him there’s next to nothing left. Just his silly pride. “So, what, you make a trip down here dressed as a commoner just ‘cause you wanna tell me your firm’s expanding into LA? Congrats, bud.”

“Shut up for a moment. Please,” Jensen says, voice a live wire. “I don’t know your birthday. Hell, I don’t even know your full name.”

“That’s—”

“But I do know how much you love your dog.”

“Yeah, I love Sadie. Everyone loves their dogs, Jensen.” 

“First time I noticed you, you were walking her. You were talking to her about your day. I’ve seen you around before, but, man, that’s when I knew.”

Jared licks his lips. “She’s a good girl,” he says, random. 

“I know you like pineapple on your pizza,” Jensen continues. “I know you love chocolate and candy. That’s why I started putting these bowls in as a request when I booked our rooms.”

He reaches out, grabbing Jared’s hand. Jared’s first instinct is to yank it away, but when that split-second of fight-or-flight passes, he leaves it in Jensen’s. His hands are so damn soft, too. He probably moisturizes. Probably never had to work ‘til calluses, except for the pen-induced bump on his middle finger once upon a time. 

“Come with me, please. You’re gonna love it there.” He sighs. “Yeah, I don’t know all of you. But give me a chance to learn.”

Jared chews on his bottom lip.

“I don’t get to live my own truth. But it sounds like you don’t get to live yours, either.” Jensen shifts from foot to foot. “Maybe you and I could try to. Together. Baby steps, right?”

He’s good at giving speeches, Jared knows. Bright eyes and level voice. But he sure as hell sounds nervous, like a middle-schooler confessing to his crush in a cheap diner booth.

Jared squeezes Jensen’s hand.

“Well, I wanna finish high school, one way or another,” he says at last. “And then I wanna do college, too. You better be cool about that.”

Jensen nods.

“And Sadie comes along.”

Another nod.

The rain almost doesn’t feel cold anymore.

“Jared.”

“What?”

“My real name. Jared.”

“Jared.” Jensen tries it on his tongue, a newly learned word he wants to use often. “Nice to meet you, Jared.”

Somehow, Jared just knows the next time Jensen’s gonna blow his mind. Or try his best to. But the thing is, it doesn’t even matter. Jensen looks at him like he sees a real live person. Not a god and not scum. Something in between.

Jensen Ackles went to Harvard. Or Stanford. Or Yale. But all of his fancy schooling didn’t teach him anything important, like how to treat a sprained leg or that you should never, ever fall for a hooker.

Jared graduated top of his class from whore school. He knows perfectly well you can’t get feelings for a john. 

Jared walks the line between loved and wanted like a tightrope and for once, he’s not scared.

The umbrella lands at their feet. Jared flings himself onto Jensen’s neck, hugging him hard.

Jensen hugs him back, tip-toeing where Jared slumps.


End file.
